Sakavian

Skoova Stev, the master fisherman who runs the aquarium at Pyloon's Saloon in Star Wars Jedi: Survivor, is the only Sakavian most of the galaxy will ever meet, and very nearly the only one left to meet at all. Sakavians are knee-high gastropods from the frozen ocean world of Sakavi Tar, a species so small, so remote, and so battered by catastrophe that almost everything known about them comes from the tall tales Skoova spins to anyone who will sit still long enough to listen.

A grown Sakavian stands no taller than about 0.6 meters and weighs maybe ten to fifteen kilograms, with a round, compact body wrapped in thick, wrinkled orange skin that darkens along the back and pales toward the chest and face. A wide, toothy mouth sits beneath a spray of stiff, quill-like whiskers that read almost like a beard, and two long eyestalks rise from the top of the head, each capped with a glossy black eye that can sweep in nearly every direction. The stubby limbs, four-fingered hands, and two splayed toes look ungainly on dry land, but they grip ice and slick decks better than they have any right to. Sakavians shrug off brutal cold without trouble, yet (oddly, given where they live) cannot survive the crushing pressure and shock chill of their own deep seas unprotected, so divers and offworld travelers alike depend on sealed pressure-and-breather suits.

Sakavi Tar sits out in the Outer Rim, a frigid world of deep oceans locked beneath sheets of ice, where the Sakavians built their whole existence around the fish and underwater creatures they hunted in the dark water below the frozen surface. Their lives ran on the rhythms of the catch: reading migration patterns, working the cold from skiffs and ice-edge camps, and hauling in enough to feed close-knit communities that knew the sea as well as they knew each other.

Sakavian culture, at least as Skoova tells it, is loud, communal, and steeped in the sea. Picture raucous gatherings where fishermen swap stories of monstrous catches and waters that nearly killed them. One creature looms over those stories above all: Oondun, an ancient, enormous tentacled beast said to dwell in a cave on Sakavi Tar and revered by local fishermen. Skoova claims he was taken to see Oondun, got clobbered in the head by one of its tentacles, and through that encounter "learned the art of focus" (a story that, like much of what he says, is impossible to verify and very Skoova).

Skoova's own history is also the species' tragedy. As a young Sakavian he joined the crew of the fishing vessel Grapnel and rose to first mate. When offworld fishermen came hunting rare catches around Sakavi Tar, he struck a bargain: he would guide them to valuable fish elsewhere if they left his homeworld alone. They broke the deal and cut him loose so they could keep stripping the seas, and Sakavi Tar was already buckling under the Great Fish Famine, a collapse driven by years of overfishing. By the time Skoova made it home, his entire village had starved, a fate that swept across most of his people. He eventually drifted to Koboh to live alone and fish in peace, where in 9 BBY Cal Kestis found him and steered him toward Greez Dritus at Pyloon's Saloon, where he stocked the big aquarium and kept telling his stories.

For SWURPG, a Sakavian is a build defined by sharp senses and small stature rather than muscle. Wide-Angle Vision turns those swiveling eyestalks into Advantage on Perception and Initiative (the +2 WIS reinforces that watchful, sea-wise read of a situation), while Small Stature trades raw strength (a steep -4 STR, with Athletics at Disadvantage and no Medium or Heavy weapons) for Advantage on Stealth and a body that is genuinely hard to notice. Survival proficiency reflects a lifetime of reading hostile waters. The catch is Environmental Suit Dependency: away from Sakavi Tar, or stripped of a proper suit, you struggle with Endurance and start taking environmental damage, but a real pressure-and-swim rig turns you into an excellent diver. Play a Sakavian and you are almost certainly playing one of the last of your kind, hauling the weight of a dead homeworld and a hold full of stories nobody can quite confirm.

Sakavians are tiny, bipedal gastropods with rounded bodies, thick wrinkled orange skin, stubby limbs, and long eyestalks tipped with glossy black eyes. They possess wide mouths filled with long white teeth, framed by quill-like whiskers resembling beards. Their hands have four short fingers, while their feet end in two elongated toes that help them balance on ice. Although tolerant of extreme cold, they require specialized pressure and temperature suits to survive underwater or anywhere offworld.

Sakavian culture revolves around maritime life: fishing expeditions, seafaring traditions, and communal storytelling in lively pub gatherings. Their speech—loud, boisterous, and thickly accented—matches their hardy, big-spirited personalities. They come from tight-knit iceberg villages where knowledge is passed by stories of colossal sea beasts and treacherous waters. While good-natured and talkative, Sakavians are deeply shaped by hardship, loss, and the Great Fish Famine that nearly annihilated their species.